A Girl With A Clear Heart
by Aquile
Summary: ... And so her arrows hit their mark; the heart of the future Mage General of Etruria..." The beginning is about Pent, but the latter, and about half of the story is from Louise's perspective. Please read, enjoy, and review. PentxLouise


All the regular disclaimer stuff goes here, like the 'I don't own Fire Emblem and therefore do not know when they'll release the DS game in US/Canada unless of course they made it public knowledge and I'm a complete idiot', and I don't know what the other PentxLouise fics are about because I'm too lazy to go search and read them. If my fic resemble their's then it's probably because... Well, I don't know! I mindread(Like Ivan and Sheba) them? xP Enough of my ramblings. Just read the bloody story.

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**A Girl With A Clear Heart  
**

The study of Count Reglay was dimly lit as the sun was barely a sliver of gold, and only a single candle was lit at the corner of the desk. The man behind the desk had grayish – blue hair that was shot with streaks of white. The crow feet at the corners of his eyes belittled his age, just a bit over forty. Stress with court, and the stress from the recent death of his Wife, was among many of the things that had caused him to look ten years older than he should. He rubbed his temples with a sigh, before righting himself as a soft tap emitted from the door.

The door opened, and a boy, a man of almost eighteen bowed to his Father before entering the room. The youth, with a lighter variant of the gray-blue hair that his Father had, took the candle from the corner of the desk, and carefully lit the three candles on the candelabrum with it, before placing the candle back to its proper place. "You called for me, Father?" He asked, taking a seat across the man that he addressed.

"You know why I called you here. We are to finish the discussion that we started two years ago. This year you turn eighteen, and as your duty, you must pick a wife for the sake of our family if nothing else. "

The youth scowled; he knew it had been coming all along. "I wish to continue my studies. Taking a wife now will hinder my progress."

The man gave his son a thin smile. Once, at a time that felt like centuries ago, he had been like him, eager to learn what he could, from texts, people, anything and everything about magic. He understood him, but he did not agree with him. "I am far more lenient than the Earls and Dukes that we happen to share our blessed country of Etruria with. I have given you two years to pick a bride, a woman who you would share the rest of your life with. I am not looking for wealth or power, contrary to the commoner's belief of every noble. But if you haven't come to a decision yet, then I can pick for you."

It was true, his Father hadn't forced him into a marriage with one of Etruria's richest lady, a pale skinned woman, almost a decade older than he, a widow, and smitten with him. He almost cringed at the thought of living the rest of his life with her. And the look in his Father's eyes were as serious as they had ever been, and he realized that he was not going to get an extension on this any longer.

"I… I have made my decision," He said firmly, his pale eyes, brighten by the candle flame, were set.

"Oh? Is that so?" The Count asked, startled. He had summoned his son with the belief that this talk was going to be long and tedious, with him having to explain many of the reasons of marriage. "I could have sworn you have just said that you have made your decision. Tell me mine ears are not deceiving me."

"Your ears are not deceiving you because that is what I just said," The youth said earnestly.

"Then may I hazard a guess that it is the Lady of –"

"No," He said firmly, before his Father could finish. "I would like any of the women – may they be nobles, or commoners – who would like my hand in marriage, come here to Castle Reglay. I would like them to display whatever skills that they may have."

He still couldn't believe his ear. "What if not a single one of them happen to be to your liking?"

"There will be one," He insisted.

"Then you are dismissed, Pent."

**xXx**

"Dear Louise, tell me you are not planning to go to Castle Reglay." Her Mother said it not as a question, but as a statement. "Surely there are others at court who might have taken your fancy."

"Mother, I know I'm not great at dancing, or singing, or any of those things for that matter," The fourteen year old blond said to her Mother. "I know I'll be disappointed if he chooses another Lady… But I'll be more disappointed if I never tried."

Her worries had been nailed by her headstrong Daughter. The Marchioness had been worrying ever since her eldest daughter had announced that she was going to try for the hand of the only son of Count of Reglay. The Count had issued a notice, a sort of talent show for all of the eligible young women. She worried that her daughter would be hurt by the young Lord's choice. As it pained her to say, her darling Louise was inferior to all the young women of her age in the art of being a proper young woman. Instead of spending her time with her instructors, she had dismissed them and went out hunting with the men of the Castle. And she would be the one who brought back the most game, though she always gave a large amount of her catch to the villagers.

Her Louise was sweet, caring, and gentle. She cared for her people as if they were her family, even though it was her fate as a daughter to be wedded off. Ever since her daughter was born, she had vowed not to wed her to someone who would not cherish her for who she was. For many years, she and her husband, the Marquess of Wrigley, had been in constant debate about the fate of their daughter.

"Louise, dearest Louise, can I not persuade you to change your mind?" The Marchioness asked, despite the fact that she knew her daughter enough that her answer would not change.

"No, my mind is set. I will go," Louise said, knowing her chances were slim. Lord Pent, the quiet, thoughtful, and quick to smile man was popular with the women of the court, both single, and wed. He had not been present at court functions until two years ago, and even then many had fallen in love at first sight. He had a presence about him, a commanding air of one that would one day attain the utmost respect of the court in one way or the other. She herself had come to like him, seeing the way he handled situations. But for once, she had been too shy to say a thing to the charming young man. However, many of the other, more forward women had clearly stated their desires for him to be in their lives, but according to rumors, he had kindly refused them.

"Then may my blessing – and the blessings of the divine St. Elimine go with you in your plight." Only for her dear daughter could she stay strong. She watched from the balcony, fearing that if she had followed to where the horses and guard were waiting, she would order a stop to this entire thing. And she truly did believe that her daughter would pull through…

**xXx**

Count Reglay squinted at the sheaf of paper presented before him. He had known his son was popular, but this was drawing the line! Surely there would not be this many applicants… He twitched, before starting to sort out the papers. He let out a sigh that was becoming normal for him, a long wistful, tired sigh. It was the night before the 'Day' as he plainly dubbed it in his mind.

Two piles were created, one nearly three times higher than the other. One was for the Nobles and the other for the commoners. He hesitated to throw the larger pile into the fireplace in the study, right after he lit it up. Muttering an incantation, the wood in the fireplace suddenly burst into flames. Taking the larger pile, he walked around the desk, mindful of the corners that got him every time he wasn't careful. He pulled out two of the papers, before letting the rest incinerate in the fire place. It was dirty… but who could blame him? There were more than enough women of higher nobility who had shown their interest.

He shuffled the two papers into the remaining pile, thinking that he should have at least spared a few more lest that his sharp Son managed to catch on. He summoned his Steward, who had come without a moment of hesitation. "Let no one in but the persons listed on these papers, and their people," Count Reglay ordered tiredly. He was off to his bedroom as soon as this was done with.

"Very well, Sire," The tall man murmured, taking the sheaf of paper, and giving a bow before leaving.

**xXx**

It was folly, just utter folly. Why had she not just listened to her Mother and stayed at home? She and a long line of other women had been shuffled into the dining room, where space was made in front of the dais. The group consisted of those as young as eleven and as old as nearly thirty. They ranged from the most heavily adorned, with multiple rings on each finger, to the one who wore a patched plain dress with not a single piece of ornament. The Count sat at the table on the dais, raised a foot above the rest of the room. Beside him sat the reason why they were all there – The Lord Pent himself, his hands clasped together and an expectant smile on his face.

The murmurs between the ladies were ceased, or in Louise's case, she was the way she came in, just silent, and mentally bashing herself.

The servants and other such people of the ladies were standing at the back wall, watching as well. Some were musicians; others were singers, and others yet just carried equipment, belonging to, or hired by a few of the women present. Her own people had been ordered by her to wait outside of the room. The slim box that she had brought sat at her feet.

"Thank you for taking your time to travel to our Castle. It is truly an honour to have such a large group of beautiful and capable women in one place," Count Reglay said as he stood from his seat. "Now, without further ado, we shall start." He nodded to his Steward, who now held only a single sheet of paper, and sat back down.

Louise knew the order of who would present first, and who would go last. They had all settled it as they had gathered in the front room with the Steward. Most, if not all were eager to go first, to try to capture the young Lord's heart before someone else did. She had volunteered to go last.

"Presenting, the Countess Marie, of the late Count of Servall!" The Steward announced.

The oldest of the group walked to the front, each step delicate and painfully slow. She wore the best money could buy, off-setting her pale skin, and if she didn't know any better, Louise would have called her a living jewelry rack.

"I will not dawdle, and I will 'cut to the chase' as they say it. If you will marry me, you will be one of the richest men in Etruria," She purred with a sweep of her arms, sending beams of blinding flashes to the onlookers.

"I'll… Consider it." Pent forced a smile at the older woman.

Another Lady was called up as the first sat down. "I am one of the best dancers in Etruria," The girl, maybe a year older than herself claimed. She beckoned at the people at the back wall, and five stepped forward, musicians of various instruments. They began to play, and she danced, her green dress and long brown hair flowing.

Louise watched on with envy. The complex dance was flawless, her moves graceful and perfect.

Then up went another, and another. Some showed their skill in singing, and a few others in dancing.

"…One does not make a heart complete, only finished shall be if two meet," Another finished, her skill in poetry, or something – she hadn't paid attention to her beginning speech.

There were two that she could see of that were evidently different. Not much different, but still. They were not high-born Nobles of Etruria.

"Lord, Sir, if yez would 'ave me, I'd be a bettur moth'r than any of th' fine ladies 'ere," A stocky girl of about maybe sixteen squeaked. She was tanner than most of the others in their group, and her brown curls were held back by a plain scarf. "Meanin' none of th' disrespect, o'course." She did an awkward curtsy, and ran back to her seat, shame-faced as just about everyone in the room let out quiet giggles, save for Pent, his Father, Louise, and many of the people gathered at the back wall.

Louise paled. Would _she_ be able to stand the laughter and unspoken insults? She shook the thought from her head.

"Are you feeling well?" The girl beside her asked in a whisper. She was about the same age as herself, just a bit shorter, and plump.

"Y-yes," Louise stammered, surprised.

The others were still trying to muffle their laughter, even though Louise herself didn't see what was so funny about the poor girl.

"Do you play an instrument as well?" The girl who had addressed her earlier asked, pointing to the worn leather case. "I play the harp." She indicated to a wooden case that was trimmed in silver, and carved with presumably her family's crest.

"No," Louise said, shaking her head. She could understand why someone could mistake her worn case for something that carried say an assortment of wooden flutes, or recorders.

"Then-"

"Ahem." The Count of Reglay cleared his throat, silencing whoever still laughed. "Shall we continue?"

The Steward nodded, and called up the next person, announcing her name, and title - which was the daughter of the Miller, of the nearby township. Another commoner, however she was practiced in speech, and what she said consisted of something about the ownership of the mill that belonged to her family. Evidently her family had thought that their mill could be given up if it meant that they would marry into nobility.

A few more went up before the girl next to her was called. The song she played on her small harp was beautiful. It was soothing, the tune softly floated form one note to the other as she plucked the strings with practiced grace. As quickly as it had started, the song finished with a final, long strum. Even the other muscician ladies were in awe. One had played the harp earlier, though her skill was no match for the girl who sat in front of the Count right now.

"Milord, if you take my hand, your days will be spent in song, and musical harmony."

Louise felt a little crest-fallen, thinking that her chances were even worst than when they had started. She was no match for the dancers, the singers, or even the worst poets. Pent, Lord Pent, the man who she had traveled nearly a week to see was so close - just on the dais - yet so far. Silently, she prayed that her time would not come too quickly. Only three were left until she would be called.

"The Lady Louise, Daughter of Marquess Wrigley!"

Her mind stumbled. It was much too soon! She wanted to cry, but the three before her had already went. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. It was all, or nothing. Taking her case, she stepped up before the dais. Her heart beat loudly, and she was surprised that the Lords in Lycia were unable to hear it. She did not wear a dress, unlike the others. She wore what she wore for travel, and what she wore when she went hunting. The Count noticeably raised his eye brows, and she felt even more flustered than ever. She had written what she wanted to say the night before, and even though she read them over, and over, she managed to forget them.

"Calm down - Long, deep breaths," A voice said kindly.

She looked up at Lord Pent, not realizing when she had looked down.

"My..." She stopped, and took a breath, commanding herself to say what she had to say. She quit trying to remember what she had written, and whatever she said now was completely made up on the spot. Her blue eyes were unwavering when she met Lord Pent's. It was now, or never, all or nothing.

"My skill is with the bow," She heard her fool self saying. Already, she could hear a few snickers. She opened the case, revealing a quiver of arrows, a bag of coiled up strings, and her bow staff. Despite being made of the best materials, hey were all worn, showing that they weren't a noble's hobby thing - but something that she used regularly, and cherished. Shame forgotten, she continued. "My sweet lord, if you choose me, I will protect you to life's end."

Then came the laughing again, far, far more louder than when the commoner girl had come up. They droned in her eardrums, giving her a sick, sinking feeling. Had she really said that? Had she just told Lord Pent, the one who she loved, that she would protect him until life's end? She was ready to find a nice, dark, secret place to find as soon as she was able. She wanted to disappear, become invisible to the world. Everything was going slow, and the laughter filled her ears for ages without letting up.

She dared herself to look up, afraid to find the face of the one that she loved fillled with amusement, and a twisted smirk. What she did next changed her life forever, all in a single glance. She looked up to see Lord Pent, smiling. It wasn't one of those smiles that he had shown the others, only to look courteous. No, this was a genuine smile.

While she had been debating with herself, whether or not to look, the young Lord had walked from his seat to stand in front of her. "I have never met a girl whose heart was so clear, Louise," he murmured.

Any sound, any noise was lost upon her - all she saw was Pent, his kind eyes, and smile, all directed on her. He took her hand. It was so warm. This warmth flowed into her, and at that moment she felt free. Free from the jeers that she thought she heard, and the snickers that had deafened her ears just before. If a person could fly, and become free from their troubles - then this was it. All she heard was his voice, and nothing else.

She did not hear the congratulations, or even the enraged howls of some of the ladies. No matter how 'well learned' they were, some still acted as enraged children, until their charges decided that it was time to lead them out. But she heard none of that. None of the screaming, the fighting, or anything except for him. She was mesmerized... Entranced.

"Lady Louise, with your skill at my side, I shall have nothing to fear. Will you, sweet, and honest Lady Louise take my hand?" Pent asked, his voice quiet, and his eyes loving and intense. He held her hand earnestly, and she knew what he meant by 'take his hand'.

Louise's voice was just as quiet as she clearly said, "Yes - yes, Lord Pent, I will."

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And so, there we have it. A spontaneous fic that came from one of the fiefdoms of 'nowhere'.

About Louise's title, Heath had mentioned in their support that she was the 'Marchioness of Wrigley', so I used that name. If it's just some random typo that got stuck in the game, then I'm sorry, but that's better than what I could make up, not that I'd want to. I'd probably butcher the name, or something.

I know Louise says that 'They were all highborn ladies of Etruria.' in her support with Rebecca, but I didn't view Count Reglay(Pent's Father at that time), or Pent as those stereotypical Commoners-are-like-slaves-type Nobles. So I just put the commoners in.

If you have anymore questions, just ask. Anyways, reviews are appreciated by everyone. Even me(Just 'cause I'm a bit crazy in the head doesn't mean I'm different from everyone else!).


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